


Moonshine

by CrossedQuills



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, will add more tags as they come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 07:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossedQuills/pseuds/CrossedQuills
Summary: Ignis has been having a very hard time maintaining his self worth after the incident that took his sight. Maybe, the company of a certain bounty hunter was what he needed to bring it back. (rating may change as story progresses)





	Moonshine

It had been roughly three months since Noctis had gone into the crystal and the world went dark. Well…it was always dark for Ignis as of late. Initially, after the incident in Altissia even direct sunlight caused severe discomfort to the area around his left eye. Now, though, he’d give anything to bare the pain if it meant feeling the warmth of the sun on his face again.

Or human contact. He’d take that too.

While Prompto was always offering to help Ignis around rough terrain or up the steep slope of the haven, he still felt like he was being treated like an invalid. Like he was breakable.

Ignis couldn’t remember the last time Gladio had given him a sturdy pat on the back or a playful shove. Not since the accident anyway. Was it due to the guilt that Gladio couldn’t be there when the incident happened? Ignis hadn’t yet ventured to ask.

Waiting for Noct to return was, in all honesty, the only thing keeping him going at the moment. He’d filled his time trying to re-learn how to fight and cook and do basic things like text, although Prompto had helped with switching his phone to voice commands, things overall were difficult.

And that wasn’t even including the daemons.

To use Glaido’s phrase, ‘they’re fucking everywhere’ was probably the most accurate observation of the matter. Other than a select few outposts like Hammerhead and Hunter HQ, Lestallum was really the only place left that was safe.

But Ignis didn’t want safe. He wanted to earn his rations and, more importantly, the respect of those around him again. Because of this, it had taken a very serious amount of cajoling on his part for Gladio and Prompto to let him come along with them on a hunt. They’d spent the day (he used the word loosely) looking for the oversized flan spewing toxic goo all over the forest near Wiz’s Ranch, but hadn’t found anything. They’d decided to make camp and head for the nearby haven when it got late, surprised to see that it was already occupied by another hunter.

Aranea Highwind.

“Well well well, look what the coeurl dragged in.” Ignis heard her mock. He was certain they didn’t look their best. “And here I thought I’d have a quiet night for a change.”

Gladio spoke first. “Aranea. Hey. Sorry to bug you, but would you mind if we set up a tent? We’re beat.”

“Yeah, I mean, unless you wanted the company,” said Prompto more confidently that Ignis ever remembered him talking to the bounty hunter. He was curious as to what had changed between them.

Aranea let out an exasperated sigh that dripped with sarcasm before saying, “Come on up. Better you then some other wayward hunters.” She added, “I was heading to bed soon anyway.”

“Much appreciated,” said Ignis as he felt his way up the side of the haven before Prompto could help him. The magical glow of the stone warm beneath his gloved fingers. “We’ll try and be quiet.”

~

Many hours later, Ignis couldn’t sleep. He never did sleep very soundly even before he lost his sight, but now that his hearing had taken up the slack even the slightest noise woke him. Despite the fact that Gladio wasn’t snoring for a change, Ignis still tossed and turned in his sleeping bag.

Eventually he just decided to get up and leave the tent. Some fresh air or the warmth of the fire might do him some good.

Leaving his walking stick behind (he was trying to use it less anyway) he slowly made his way across the haven toward the central camp site. Using the heat radiating from it and the magical crackle of the fire that never needed tending to guide him. Thankfully there weren’t any camp chairs or tables to trip him up before he’d gotten close enough and sank down to his knees and sat meditatively like he used to when he had moments alone in the past. Those were becoming rare nowadays too with the crowding of the cities and outposts.

“You get around pretty well,” said Aranea from a few feet away.

Clearly, solitude was still illusive out here in the wilds too. He stifled a sigh.

“Evening…or morning. I can’t be sure. What are you doing awake so late?”

There was a rustle of cloth. Ignis assumed she’d shrugged. “Just restless I guess. Thought I’d come out here and have a nip to help me sleep. Figured I could spare it with three Crownsguardsmen around to protect me.”

Ignis scoffed. “Hardly. I think the only reason the others are sleeping so well is knowing they have another set of…” ‘ _eyes to keep a look out_ ’ he was going to say. But the words died on his tongue. He cleared his throat. “…another trusted hunter around.”

There was a silence for a moment before Aranea shifted so that she was closer to him and a cool metal flask touched the back of his hand. “Here, you might need this more than me. Finish it off if you like, I’ve already got a decent buzz on.”

Ignis took the flask. “And why do you think I need it?” he said, smelling the contents. Surprisingly it smelled of oak, fire, and high-quality bourbon.

“I know what hiding pain looks like. And you’re hiding a lot of it.”

Pausing for only an instant, Ignis tilted the flask back and drank the equivalent of three or so shots before swallowing hard. It burned, but thanks to the high quality it was warm instead of hot. He made to hand back the flask, but Aranea just pushed it back at him. “I mean it. You should probably finish that.”

“It doesn’t hurt _that_ much,” he said, sounding more defensive than he intended. Idly reaching up to trace a finger along the star-shaped scar around his left eye, he realized that he’d left his dark glasses in the tent. Swallowing hard, he suddenly felt very self­-conscious and exposed. He didn’t like people seeing his flayed face.  He’d never been a terribly prideful man, but he knew that he mustn’t be much to look at now.

Aranea, on the other hand, didn’t seem terribly fazed by it. “I’m not talking about physical pain.”

Ignis made to say something, but withheld it at the last moment. There was a silence between them for a long few minutes. During which the alcohol made its way through Ignis’ bloodstream, warming him from the inside out and chipping away at his barriers. “I do appreciate your candid nature…even if you are a little tactless,” he said after a while.

She chuckled. “I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant to be.” He took another long drink of the flask and put it aside, nearly empty. “Back when this,” he gestured to his face, “happened everyone treated me so delicately. They still do for the most part. But when I told you that I lost my sight at the train stop you essentially said ‘that sucks…the world can be cruel’. I’m paraphrasing, but that was the first direct thing anyone had said to me about it. It was…refreshing.”

Aranea shifted closer and put a hand on his shoulder. He was only wearing his workout clothes for sleep, so her fingers against his bare skin sent an unexpected jolt down his spine. Other than doctors, nobody had touched him directly in months.

“I was just being honest,” she said. “The world _is_ cruel. But there’s always silver linings and other ways of looking at things. For example, I’ve always ben fond of looking at the moon, and now it’s out all the time.”

“It is?” Ignis contemplated how that could be. If the moon reflected sunlight, but the sun never rose then how…

“You’re overthinking things,” she said. “And yes, it’s a deep crescent tonight. Looks like a Cheshire cat smile.”

Ignis couldn’t help but smile slightly. “That’s almost poetic.”

She scoffed. “Sorry, I better tone it down. Don’t want to come off as soft. It’ll ruin my image.”

“And what about me?” Ignis asked.

Aranea didn’t miss a beat. “Your image is still pretty handsome to look at, if you ask me. The scars make you look dashing.”

Ignis blushed. Partially from the alcohol, but mostly from the comment. For the moment, he was thankful it was dark out. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, what’s the silver lining to this.” He gestured to his face again, suddenly feeling very bad for himself. Normally he’d shove the feelings aside, but the alcohol wasn’t letting him. “I can barely get around, attempts to fight puts others in danger, I can’t read anymore, my cooking skills have declined tremendously, I can’t-” His words were cut short as Aranea’s hand shifted from his shoulder to his scarred lip, silencing him. Afterwards it moved up his jawline and traced a thumb along the angry wound around his eye. He flinched back at the contact, but she gently maintained it. He could feel the callouses under her fingers from years of wielding a spear as she idly ran digits along scarred flesh. It hurt a little, but subconsciously Ignis began leaning into the touch. It had been a _very_ long time and he relished every bit of unabashed contact he could get.

“You know what being bad at something is?” she said.

“What?”

“It’s the first step to being great at something.”

Ignis froze, warmth blooming in his chest. The others had given him words of encouragement since the incident, but they’d always felt forced. Hopeful, but not terribly confident. The bounty hunter before him, on the other hand, flat out just said that being useless was good, because it was a cornerstone. Something to build on. Something that Ignis needed to hear.

“Thank you.”

 

~X~X~

This may become more based on feedback, but this might be my favorite het pairing in the game. All hail Highspecks.


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